


Little White Lies

by AlamoGirl80



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Showers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-09
Updated: 2011-05-09
Packaged: 2017-10-19 04:51:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/197107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlamoGirl80/pseuds/AlamoGirl80
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Danny gets injured, lies about it, gets caught and ultimately this is all Steve's fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little White Lies

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Don't own, not claiming any rights to this, just having some kinky fun.
> 
> Written for LJ's Merry Month of Masturbation (mmom) My first foray into the explicit world of explicit explicitness. Those are words, I swear. Special thanks to **caliecat** for being my comma Nazi.

Danny hates his life.

On days like this, sometimes, Danny even hates his job. Sometimes. Usually it’s because the case hits too close to home – kids, he’ll never be able to take the ones with kids – or the ends don’t tie up into neat little bows for the DAs. Sometimes, more often than not, it’s because his nut-job partner does something insane, like, oh, run roughshod over due process and Miranda in favor of bulldozing a suspect’s front gates with the _car_.

 _Danny’s_ car, thank you very much

Most of the time lately, he hates his job because even after all this time working together, he still can’t seem to yank the reins hard enough on Steve fucking McGarrett to make him think before he acts. True, Steve gets results, and hey, it is kinda nice to be the Governor’s pet project and all.

But fuck. Danny’s a cop. Cops follow procedure. They don’t wield grenades and throw people in shark tanks for Christ’s sake.

Of course, today was a hideous amalgamation of all of the things Danny hates, wherein a little girl not much older than Grace got tossed out of her kidnapper’s vehicle, off a bridge into Punalu’u stream, and Steve sent Danny and the Camaro into a skid before stripping his shirt at lightning speed and diving in after her.

Danny didn’t even have time to think much less react other than to run to the edge and peer down as his partner, Aquaman, surfaced clutching the terrified girl.

 _Shit_ , Danny’s heart still races when he thinks about it.

He honestly doesn’t know which was a more heart-stopping thought, the girl going over the bridge or Superhero Steve diving in without even looking to see if the water was deep enough.

Now, as Danny trudges into his dingy, darkened fleabag apartment, tugging his tie off while he rummages in the fridge for a Longboard, he wonders how many grey hairs he’s acquired since starting his sentence working with Steve McGarrett.

He’s carried the tension of the day in his shoulders and now they are screaming at him for relief, so he undoes a few buttons before pulling his shirt over his head as he heads to the shower, swigging his beer as he goes.

He snatches a glance at himself in the mirror and Christ, he looks like shit. Steve has aged him, no fucking doubt.

Finally, in the solitude of his peaceful shower, he braces his hands on the side of the tiled wall, letting the water beat rhythmically down his shoulders and back. He’s got it as hot as he can stand, and slowly, he feels the tightness ease from weary, over taxed muscles.

Well, his muscles might be unwinding, but the knot in his gut hasn’t released yet.

Steve. Fucking _Steve_.

Danny massages the soap through his hair, sticking his head back under the pulsing spray and, fuck, he can’t help but think back to hours before.

***

Steve’s head breaching the water’s surface below. Steve hauling the little girl to the stream bank, before carrying her like a doll to the waiting ambulance.

Danny is frozen, watching the huge, reckless, batshit crazy SEAL gingerly hand over his charge but staying close by to comfort the child. And isn’t that just the weirdest thing in the world: Steve coddling the girl, murmuring soothing things to her as he strokes her hair and Danny’s heart may or may not have swelled three sizes in his chest at the sight.

Steve could have broken his neck. He could have injured something hitting a log or a rock or God knows what else under the water and then the both of them would’ve drowned.  All of these what-ifs, the what-ifs that never manage to penetrate SuperSEAL’s brain cavity, flood into Danny’s mind and he feels his hands clenching at his sides.

Oh, how he wanted to punch him. Beat some sense into him. Make him understand that there are people who need him, people who can’t do this job without him. Because maybe, maybe Danny realizes that other than Grace, Steve’s probably all he’s got on this island. Sure, Chin and Kono are his friends and team mates, but Steve…

***

 

 _What is Steve, anyway_ , Danny thinks, as he rinses his hair and goes for the body wash. What is he, besides a huge fucking liability, a walking trouble magnet that prefers to be shirtless, bearing his menacing tattoos like they’re supposed to ward off bad luck while he saves the world?

Steve’s the man who always has Danny’s back, that’s who. Whose endless store of bravery is only matched by his fierce protectiveness and loyalty. Steve’s the man who went beyond professional courtesy and helped Danny save his custody rights before they’d even worked together a month.

Steve’s the man who picks at Danny about his ties and his mainlander ways, while simultaneously trying to convince him that even though he’ll always miss the place where he grew up, it might be okay to think of Hawaii as home too.

He’s the guy who wants to go out for drinks after cases, brings beer to Danny’s apartment or invites him over on the weekend because there’s a game on, or some house work he needs help with, and “oh, by the way, you can just crash here if you want, Danno…”

Danny heaves a sigh, closing his eyes, the images of the days clicking by like a projector in his mind’s eye.

***

As soon as the ambulance has the girl squared away, Steve turns, probably expecting his partner to be at his side, and is suitably surprised to see Danny standing a few yards away near the bridge ledge.

Steve catches sight of Danny and, _Jesus_ , the man’s face lights up like it’s fucking Christmas; that huge, goofy smile breaking out across it and something chips away at Danny’s inner walls of anger.

Steve, still very shirtless and yes, very wet, trots toward Danny – and Danny could make yet another dog analogy here, but it’s just too obvious – grinning the whole way like he’s won the Super Bowl.

“Hey, Danny,” Steve says, running his hand through his hair and flicking drops of water onto Danny’s shirt. Danny is not amused by this. “The medics say she’ll be okay in time. Nothing but a few scrapes and bruises. We lucked out, huh?”

There is nothing in the world Danny would rather do than to land a nice right hook across Steve’s jaw right now, because the dork is happy that he’s given his partner a fucking coronary, but that’s not what happens.

To Danny’s abject horror, his body moves of its own accord and suddenly, he’s wrapped around Steve’s tree trunk hard body like a vine. One arm over Steve’s shoulder, pulling him down until his chin rests on Danny’s shoulder, and the other snaking around Steve’s flank to his back.

His brain is full of white noise by this point, Steve is rigid, _shocked_ under his hands, and God, people are staring. But he can’t stop. Danny clings to Steve like that for a few moments because maybe… in his blackest of nightmares, Steve’s superhero issues finally prove that he isn’t invincible in the end, and when he does shit like this, it just drives home how unpredictable and precious and infuriating this… this partnership _thing_ between them is.

Danny can feel Steve’s breath hitch, the water dripping off Steve’s hair soaking his shirt and the ripple of all that muscle under slick skin. Steve’s just starting to reciprocate, his arms tightening around Danny’s shoulders when Danny forcibly shoves his partner away from him.

Steve stumbles back, confusion and maybe a twinge of hurt in his eyes that Danny resolutely ignores.

Danny glances to the side, gives the rescue workers a glare, sniffs and wipes a hand down his now damp shirt. He points a finger in Steve’s face.

“Don’t you _ever_ do that again. Bridge, cliff, volcano, whatever. Don’t you ever fucking dive off something without looking first. What are you, part lemming?” Danny says through clenched teeth.

Steve blinks. His brows furrow and his arms are still in the semi-hug position like he still hasn’t processed the hug and damn him, it’s actually cute.

Then, the most beatific goof-smile spreads across that handsome face again and if Danny isn’t mistaken, hearts have replaced Steve’s pupils.

“You hugged me,” Steve says, and continues to stare down at Danny like he’s got the answers to the universe.

That’s it. He’s gonna hit Steve now. “ _That_ …is not an answer, you schmuck.”

“Danny, what do you want, huh? The girl is okay, Chin and Kono have caught up with the kidnapper’s car up the highway, and he’s in custody as we speak. This is the best possible ending to a case.”

“You jumped off a fucking bridge without even looking, Steven.” Danny’s hands slice through the air.

“SEALs are trained to be able to assess water conditions in emergency situations, Danny. We’re taught how to properly dive from certain heights in questionable water.”

Danny huffs, crossing his arms. “So if you hit a rock on the way down, that makes no never mind to your SEAL buddies, huh? Only a skull fracture. Just walk it off, right?”

Steve’s smile gets bigger, if that’s possible. “You were worried about me.”

Danny frowns and steps back. “Only because if you dove off and killed yourself, I’d have to go in after you. I don’t want to get my tie wet. It’s my favorite tie,” he says, smoothing a hand down his front.

Steve takes a step forward, looming over him now. “It’s already wet.” His voice has a rasp now that is far too distracting with cops and medics surrounding them.

Danny shakes his head and waves a hand. “Not the point–”

“Then what is the point, Danno?”

“The _point_ is that you are a stupid, reckless…” and Danny’s list of Steve McGarrett failings gets derailed as his eyes slide down Steve’s body, following the rivulets of water as they course down his chest, across the tight ripple of his abs, settling in the cut of muscle above his hip…

Danny has to take a deep breath, which embarrassingly catches in his throat as his pants suddenly become too tight in the crotch.

“You  know what, I hate you.” Danny turns on his heel and adds over his shoulder, “Go put your shirt back on, Aquaman, before you cause another traffic accident.”

***

 

Danny groans, an echo within the confines of his tiny shower in his tiny apartment, as the images of Steve – wet, shirtless, and so very happy that Danny hugged him – start to work their way to his cock.

Why does he have to have such a vulnerable side, Danny wonders, as his hand slides down his soap-slick skin settling around his half-hard cock. Slowly, he slides his fist from the head down the shaft, twisting a little at the base.

He thinks about all the times Steve has stripped out of his clothes like Superman without a phone booth, cool determination in his eyes and no hesitation.

The images start to meld together, a slideshow in Danny’s mind, all the times Steve has saved the day. All the times he’s given bits of himself, sacred well-guarded pieces that he’s likely never shown anyone except Danny. All the times Steve’s looked at Danny with guarded hope because everyone this man ever cared about left him in one way or another.

“Oh God,” Danny pants, and his slow pace thrusting into his hand gives way to harder, more purposeful pumps.

Danny remembers the feel of Steve pressed fully against him, thigh to shoulder, all that long, lean muscle right there under his fingers. He wonders what it would be like to have all of that skin, fully naked, under his body, writhing and wanton.

Danny braces his free hand against the shower stall, spreads his legs and scoops up more soap suds from his thigh as extra lubrication. The slick is just right, his hand sliding over his now rock-hard cock, rolling his hips in earnest as he imagines Steve’s hand replacing his own.

He’s licking every drop of water off Steve’s body before plunging down between his legs, taking Steve’s swollen cock into his mouth and sucking him off like he’s trying to win a competition. Trying to show Steve that he’s needed, wanted…Danny’s not going anywhere.

The release is building low in his spine and God, there’s Steve in his mind again, sucking and licking down Danny’s cock, making noises that a porn star would envy. Danny flicks his wrist as his hand goes over the head, and oh, he’s close. So _close_.

Pushing against the shower stall, Danny thinks of Steve hovering on top of him, buried to the hilt inside of him with that _look_ in his eyes, the one where the world falls away and it’s just the two of them, and that’s it.

 

He jerks into his hand one last time before he comes in stuttering spurts into the shower spray, then rides the spasms until they start to ease, lolling his head back and reveling in the bone-melting bliss. When his brain starts working again, he’ll have a good long think on how his partner just became the best jerk-off fantasy of his life.

But really, things could have ended like that and it would have been just fine, and if Danny had a decent shower with decent finish on the bottom and maybe a handrail, nothing would have happened.

Just as he begins to reach forward to turn off the shower – his mind hazy with the images of a sated and spent Steve in his bed and his muscles still in that post-orgasmic jello-state – Danny loses his footing, his right foot slipping out from under him.

There is a lot of scrabbling, cursing and Danny’s pretty sure his neighbors will think he’s murdering someone in his apartment, but when it’s all over, Danny finds himself in a tangled heap in the bottom of his shower.

“Fuck!” he screams, because really, this is going on Steve’s head. This is all his fault.

***

 

The next day, Danny’s well and truly screwed. His bad knee has swollen up to the point he can barely stand on it, and he’s had to dig out the cane again. Not only that, but after his little fumble in the shower, his lower back is screwed up, and well, isn’t that just fucking perfect?

By the time he limps into Five-0 HQ, he’s in a righteously foul mood and the OTC pain meds are hardly taking the edge off.

“Whoa, brah. What’s up with the cane making a comeback?” Kono asks, as Danny lumbers into the office.

Danny really doesn’t want to bite her head off; after all, it’s not her fault. He knew the questions were going to inundate him. Chin and Kono he could manage.

But Danny doesn’t think he can look Steve in the face, remembering exactly how he ... uh… injured himself.

He ducks his head, heading toward the coffee machine. “It’s nothing, just tweaked my knee yesterday getting out of the car chasing after my lemming partner.”

Maybe something as plausible as this, because Steve is a liability wrapped in a suicide wish and got him shot on their first case together, will keep Kono from asking any more questions.

Mercifully, Kono just smiles, all pretend-commiserating, like she wouldn’t have tried to impersonate Steve’s suicide dive herself. Steve really has corrupted her.

Chin doesn’t even ask. He’s in Danny’s office dropping off files and his eyes flick from the cane to Danny’s face, and Danny just shrugs, says “I hit it against the bed frame running to answer the phone,” while he’s busy watching the door for Steve.

In fact, he’s so distracted watching for his partner, that when Danny realizes he just changed his story with Chin, Danny wants to beat himself in the head with his own cane.

Rule number one in a good lie: keep your stories straight.

Chin winces. “You look like you’re in pain this time, brah, you better call the doc.”

“Yeah, I will. I will.” Danny really hopes it won’t come to that.

Steve swaggers in, all confident and loose, and yep, right on cue, Danny’s mind heads straight into the gutter of his shower fantasies. He takes a deep breath, wills some of the old Williams self control into action, and prepares himself for the Steve McGarrett brand of mother-henning.

“Danny, what happened?” And there it is – the widened, worried eyes. Steve moving quickly toward him, all concern and Christ, why is this his life?

“Okay, alright, power down, SuperSEAL. I’m okay, really. I just, uh…” Danny fumbles, because while his mouth wants to come up with an excuse, his brain and heart are doing the ‘I beat off to Steve McGarrett dreams and I fucking LOVED it!’ dance.

Steve’s closer now, truly worried, and Danny’s brain-mouth connection shorts.

“I slipped. In the shower,” he mumbles.

Steve frowns and looks at him oddly, while Chin and Kono exchange glances.

“You slipped in the shower?” Steve asks.

Danny just lifts his chin, hoping to God that the heat he’s feeling isn’t rushing to his face. He’s pretty damn sure his ears are pink though, God damnit.

Then, Chin chimes in. “In the shower, huh?” And he gives Danny the look reserved for suspects in interrogation.

Danny doesn’t think anything of it before suggesting that they all get back to the jobs they’re paid for and leave him and his booboos alone.

That works… until Danny’s hurting so badly he almost can’t speak, which is a red flag to Steve, who immediately drives him to an urgent care clinic and Danny can’t even argue.

But then there is the mortification of telling the doctor what he was doing at the time of the injury, but luckily for Danny, falling in the shower due to slippery tile is a fairly common occurrence.

Course, Steve is in the room, which makes Danny flush hot and bright while the doc is taking his blood pressure, and fuck, now he’s probably going to get stuck on heart meds or something.

Maybe Steve didn’t notice.

***.

 

Back in his apartment, knee splinted and hurting so damn bad he wants to lie on his stupid fucking roll-out bed and cry, Danny hears a forceful knock on his door.

“Danny! C’mon, man - open up!”

 _Steve_. Danny takes a moment to work the heels of his hands into his eyes wearily, before hobbling to the door.

Steve’s on the other side with a six pack of beer and a roll of something plastic under his arm.

“Steven,” Danny drawls by way of greeting. “You come bearing gifts?”

“Yep.” Steve smiles, sliding past him, but brushing up against Danny’s chest as he passes.

Something zings his tired, overworked nerve endings at the touch and Danny suppresses the sound of frustration in his throat. Steve deposits the beer on the counter and as Danny tries to make his way back to the couch he must look pathetic, because there’s Steve, leaning into him and supporting his weight.

The warmth of Steve’s solid body pressed against him steals Danny’s breath away, and seriously, this isn’t fair.

“I could’ve managed,” Danny mutters.

Steve smiles softly. “No offense, man, but you look like you’re about to pass out.”

“A beer would help,” Danny offers, trying not to whine.

Steve fishes out a cold one and pops the top before handing it over. Then he takes the roll of mesh plastic and heads toward Danny’s bathroom.

“Uh…what’re you doing?”

“Installing some no-slip shower grip in your tub,” Steve answers, his voice echoing against the tile.

Danny nearly chokes on his beer. “I’m sorry, you’re _what_?”

He hears sounds of adhesive and plastic unfolding and then Steve’s back in the living room, looking at Danny as though he’s finally cracked.

“You said you slipped in the shower,” Steve explains, grabbing Danny’s bottle of pain meds and shaking it. “I need to know that my team members won’t be taken out by their own household amenities – and I use the term amenities _very_ lightly in this case. God, Danny, that bathroom looks worse than some of the showers I’ve used in barracks with a hundred other guys.”

Steve offers Danny his meds, but Danny waves him off. “Not with the beer. And for the last time, lay off my apartment, okay? So, what, you decide to come and safty-ize my apartment like I’m an eighty year old woman?”

Steve smirks. “You just used _safty-ize_ in a sentence, you need all the help you can get. And really, it’s no big deal.”

His partner starts to look away, shifting his weight like he’s uncomfortable and Danny has the sinking suspicion that Steve’s nervous.

“I just wanted to…y’know… help out,” Steve mumbles, rolling Danny’s med bottle between his palms.

Danny looks away and runs a hand down his face. Oh shit. “That’s nice, Steve. Thanks.”

Steve looks up from his hands, gauging Danny’s reaction, and then seems relieved. “Okay, so what did you _really_ do to fuck up your knee?” Steve crosses his arms over that impressive chest, his biceps straining his tee shirt sleeves and Danny suddenly needs another swig of beer.

“What are you talking about?”

 “I know you didn’t slip in the shower…or at least, that’s not all there is to it.”

“You don’t believe me? What more could there be, Steven, I slipped on slippery soap-covered porcelain.” Danny feels the tightness balling in his stomach again and resists fidgeting on the couch.

Steve levels a look at him. “You told Kono you hurt it with me during that chase up near Punalu’u stream.”

Danny feels his body temp rocket into the red zone. He can’t look at Steve so he studies the Longboard in his hands.

“You told Chin you wacked it on the bed frame answering the phone,” Steve continues, all superior, like he’s fucking Sherlock Holmes doing his end-of-case reveal.

Danny shakes his head as if trying to dislodge a good excuse but nothing is there. Nothing except remembering how good it felt to imagine Steve’s hand on his cock, Steve in the shower with him, pressed up against his ass, nudging into him while reaching around to stroke…

“And you told me you slipped in the shower. Now, which is it, Danny?”

Steve’s right in front of him now, arms still crossed and there is still a smug air drifting off him.

“I – okay, look. It was the shower, okay?” Jesus fuck, they should revoke his detective shield if he can’t even keep his stories straight any better than this. “I slipped in the shower so, instead of sounding like something out of those ‘I’ve fallen and I can’t get up’ commercials, I decided to embellish a little. Just a little.”

Danny glances up at Steve, noting his proximity and the fact that he’s practically eye level with Steve’s crotch really isn’t helping matters.

Steve shakes his head and full-out grins now. “Uh-uh, that’s not all of it, buddy.” He points at Danny’s face, and Danny has to lean back to glare at his finger. “What was up in the doctor’s office, huh? You looked like you were going to stroke out trying to tell him your story of slipping in the shower.”

“I hate doctors,” Danny says.

“What about when the doc said that your knee would have been worse, but you were obviously relaxed at the time of the injury–” Steve starts to say.

“It was a hot shower,” Danny finishes, a little too quickly.

“You were blushing.”

“I – no I wasn’t,” Danny squawks.

Steve leans down a little, his smile more predatory than congenial now. “You’re still blushing, Danny. What’s the matter, you fall while jerking off or something?”

And yeah, that was probably meant to offend Danny’s sensitive nature, goad him into a rant or something, but all it does is make Danny sink further into the couch while choking out a strangled laugh that sounds just a tad manic.

He’s sputtering denials when he sees the grin fall off Steve’s face instantly and something like shock wash over his features.

Danny can’t take this. This is being interrogated in his own damn apartment and he’s not going to listen to Steve make fun of him for injuring himself masturbating in the shower either.

He rubs the back of his neck, knows he’s sporting a nice flush now and he hates Steve so much. “Look, I appreciate the gesture with the bathtub grip stuff and all, but–”

Steve shifts closer, his voice unsure. “Hey, we all gotta do it some–”             




“Oh my _God_ if you finish that sentence I’m going to _shoot_ you, Steven,” Danny wails.

“Sorry.”

Danny’s too busy pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to stave off the oncoming headache to notice the couch dip beside him and Steve’s sinuous arm stealing along the back of the couch behind him.

“You’ve been jumpy around me all day, Danny,” Steve murmurs, so close Danny can actually feel his words.

Danny keeps his eyes closed, hoping, praying that this is just another dream and Steve really isn’t sidling up beside him like they’re on a fucking date, and okay, no, that is Steve’s hand coming down on the other side of  his neck. He shudders a little at the light touch, Steve’s fingers grazing his shoulder, and hell, he’s encompassed in Steve McGarrett now.

“Uhmm.” Danny finally sucks it up and looks at the man next to him.

Steve’s not joking anymore. In fact, there is that same laser focus in those eyes that’s usually reserved for missions and Danny can smell his aftershave and see every grey hair at his temples and _damn_ this man is gorgeous. His stomach does a flip-flop and he can feel his cock perking up.

Shit.

“Being embarrassed about getting hurt while jerking off is one thing, but–”

“Please…” Danny begs.

But Steve cuts him off by scooting closer, more flush against him, gently taking his tie in hand and twirling it around his fist, all the while those eyes boring into Danny’s soul. Then, something of a smile quirks Steve’s lips and he looks at Danny like he looked at him on that bridge after the impromptu hug and he just might start spouting rainbows and unicorns and glitter any second.

“It’s okay, Danny,’ Steve soothes, tugging on Danny’s tie a little. “I don’t mind.”

Steve’s other hand is sliding up the nape of Danny’s neck, ticking the hairs there, sending thrills up his spine and stiffening his now very alert dick.

“Mind what?” Danny asks, because he can’t be held responsible for a functioning brain right now. Not while a crazy hot SEAL is looking like he wants to eat Danny for dessert.

“That you thought about me while stroking your cock,” Steve rumbles, looking down at Danny’s lips.

Steve’s tongue flicks out, wetting his own lips and Danny almost groans. He flattens a palm against the muscle of Steve’s chest, more to brace himself than anything and when he can finally speak, his voice is sandpaper rough.

“How are you so sure it was yo – _oh fuck_ , _Steve_!” Danny gasps as Steve’s hand slides down to Danny’s crotch, palming his aching cock through his pants.

Steve leans in, nuzzles Danny’s neck, and then slips a finger through the knot in his tie.

“Just good detective work,” Steve says with a smile against Danny’s skin.

Danny shifts as best he can around the bum knee to run his hands down Steve’s chest to the considerable bulge in his cargos, and hey, maybe this is okay. Obviously Steve is down with this, if the way he’s rocking into Danny’s hand and growling is any indication.

Danny’s already got Steve’s pants open – Christ the man goes commando, figures – takes his cock out and runs his fist down the thick, hard length, eliciting a low moan from his partner.

“I don’t know how we’re going to do this with my knee, but we’re going to do this, and we’re going to do this now,” Danny mumbles against Steve’s jaw while rubbing his thumb over the head of Steve’s cock.

Suddenly, Steve’s on the floor, between Danny’s knees, positioning his legs apart while taking great care with Danny’s splinted knee and working Danny’s cock from the confines of his pants.

“This might work better, for now,” Steve says.

Danny sucks in a breath as Steve runs his fingers down his cock, and God the sight of this man looking at him with adoration… Danny doesn’t think he can take it.

“But next time,” Steve says, while kissing the spot where Danny’s hip meets his thigh, and then lets his breath waft over the sensitive skin of Danny’s cock. “Next time, just _tell_ me, okay?”

Danny would like to tell him that there is a time and place for little white lies to preserve dignity and feelings, but he’s completely lost at sea the moment Steve’s mouth swallows him down.

At the end of the day, maybe it’s just better to reap the rewards of telling the truth.

 

 **END**

 

 


End file.
